You Love Her, Do You Not?
by KoraSonata
Summary: It doesn’t look like her. Her eyes are sunken, her cheeks are pale, her body looked rigid. Wires and tubes sprouted from every which direction, connected to machines that beeped and clacked loudly with a constant stream of blinking lights. Her skin was void of all colour; pale and chalky, and the white hospital gown clashed horribly against her normally pink skin. The colour was ha


The hospital smells like death. Not like rotting and decay, but like sadness and latex; stale. Dry. The walls are too white, and the lights are too bright. The hallways all look the same; long and never ending, with each wall mirroring the other. It gives off that whole infinity-mirror look. The combination makes Lena feel nauseous, and even though she's only been there for a matter of minutes, the Luthor suddenly wishes she could step outside to get some air.

The air feels sick; contaminated. Her hands felt like they were carrying germs; sticky and clammy, despite the fact that she had not physically touched anything aside from the single door handle at the entrance.

The resounding click of her heels echos loudly throughout the mostly empty hallways. Occasionally she will pass a picture frame hung neatly on the wall. Fields of bright yellow flowers, forests of lush beautiful trees, warm sunsets bursting with hues of reds and yellows and pinks. They look out of place. Forced. Like they don't belong here. They are actual photographs, but here they look fake. Unnatural. It makes her feel uncomfortable.

She pulls her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. It's not particularly cold. In fact, she's not paying much attention to the actual temperature of the building. But the weight of it feels comforting. Familiar. If she closes her eyes and forgets where she is, she could almost imagine that it's an eerily familiar bright red cape being casually draped over her shoulders by a certain hero.

Her room is at the end of the hall; quarantined off from the rest, far from the other inhabitants. She knows it had needed to be this way. The secret had been hers to reveal in life. And it was still hers in death. Although she supposed there was little point to it now. But the one thing it did allow, was for her family to grieve in peace.

Flowers is the first thing she sees when she walks into the tiny room. Hundreds of them. Scattered everywhere. Tables, floors, windows. Brightly coloured yellows and oranges, pinks and purples, reds and blues. Everything.

The curtain has been drawn, and the window propped open, allowing the fresh air to flow throughout the room; the curtains billowing in the breeze, and the sunlight seeping through the glass. The sunlight creates a stream, landing perfectly upon the unmoving form currently residing upon the single hospital bed. Kara's glasses lay folded on the bedside table.

She walks towards the bed, where she gently reaches forward and takes the reporters hand in her own. There's no response. No sign that Kara has any idea that she's there. Not even a twitch. She swallows.

She allowed her eyes to roam over the body, examining the damage that Reign had done. The cut at the top of her forehead, having been stitched back together. The breathing tubes around her nose. The purple bruise just above her collarbone. The gray hospital clip currently attached to her unmoving finger. The clear tube running up the length of her arm. It all seemed so bizarre.

It doesn't look like her. Her eyes are sunken, her cheeks are pale, her body looked rigid. Wires and tubes sprouted from every which direction, connected to machines that beeped and clacked loudly with a constant stream of blinking lights. Her skin was void of all colour; pale and chalky, and the white hospital gown clashed horribly against her normally pink skin. The colour was harsh and cold. It was all wrong. Kara was warm, and gentle. She was bubbly, and full of life. This wasn't Kara. This was just an empty shell that barely resembled her.

Footsteps approached from behind, and a figure hovered in the doorway. Lena takes a breath.

"Alex."

Alex doesn't question how she knows it's her. Simply walks into the room to stand beside her. They stand there for a long moment, both silent; simply staring. The only sound interrupting the quiet being the beeps and clacks of the machinery sitting next to the bed.

"Where's Eliza?" Lena ask eventually, still not taking her eyes off of the hollow shell that had once been Kara Danvers. Alex clears her throat, as if trying to prevent her voice from cracking.

"She, uh-" Alex sniffs, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "She's coming. She should be here soon."

Lena says nothing. Simply staring.

"You can stay if you'd like." Alex says. "Kara-" she takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Kara would want you to be here for this."

Lena's lips curl upwards a fraction of an inch, but it doesn't meet her eyes. "That's sweet, but the doctors were very clear. Immediate family only."

Alex glances at her, watching as Lena gently caressed Kara's hand with her thumb.

"You love her, do you not?"

"Ms. Luthor?" A doctor appears from the hallway before she has a chance to respond, a sympathetic look on his face. Eliza stands beside him looking tired and worn out. Lena doesn't move. "It's time."

She squints her eyes shut briefly before opening them, taking a deep breath; her face hard and cold. "It doesn't matter now." She says in answer to Alex's question, giving Kara's hand a final squeeze, before taking a single step back. She closes her eyes. "She's gone. And she's not ever coming back."

And without another word, she turned and walked out of the room. Eliza squeezed her hand as she passed in a comforting gesture, and as Alex watched her retreating form, the agent couldn't see as a single tear slipped from the Luthor's eye and rolled down her cheek; hitting the floor with a soft plink.


End file.
